With the autumn bird hunting season just about upon us, I wasn't surprised when my buddy Bob called to invite me over for an afternoon of skeet shooting. Lord knows when it comes to hunting ruffed grouse I can use all the help I can get, so I couldn't turn down the chance to get in a bit of practice.

"Everybody that hunts partridge and pheasant ought to try and break a few clays before the season," Bob said. "I only have a hand thrower, but I think it will do."

Before I headed over to meet Bob at his woodlot, I headed to my gun safe and pulled out the 12-gauge semiautomatic shotgun that I hunt ducks and birds with and gave it a quick cleaning. Then I loaded my vest with a box of skeet shot and jumped in the truck.

When I pulled of the old dirt road I saw Mike's truck parked behind Bob's and the two of them were leaning on the hood talking.

I rolled my window down and asked, " Can anyone join this conversation?"

"If you can tell me why I haven't seen that monster buck from my tree stand yet, come join in,"Mike answered with a laugh.

I climbed from the truck, grabbed my gear and met my friends at the head of a logging road that led back to a small clearing about a quarter mile away. It's a place we've practiced a number of times and offers up endless opportunities for realistic hunting situations.

When we reached the clearing, Bob suggested that I go first. So, while he lugged the case of clay birds behind a pair of large pine trees safely off to my right, I loaded five shells in my shotgun.

"Are you ready?" he shouted.

"Any time,"I yelled back.

Then as I stood ready, an orange clay target came shooting out from behind those pine trees quartering away in front of me. I thrust the shotgun up, swung the bead throw the target and when it was just in front of the target I squeezed the trigger.

I didn't turn the target into dust. However, I managed to break it into several pieces.

"You caught that one by the skin of your teeth,"Bob said jokingly. "Get ready for another one."

When Bob threw the next one, he threw it high and fast so it would climb straight up in front of me. Again I drew a bead on the target and with a squeeze of the trigger, that clay target disappeared in a cloud of dust.

"Great shot." Mike shouted.

I shot at three other targets and dusted two more. However, when Bob threw one that crossed in front of me with some speed, I missed it completely.

Bob was next with his 12-gauge over and under. I grabbed the thrower and when I attempted my first throw, I drove it straight into the ground just 10 feet in front of me.

"Hey, you've got to get it out there a little farther than that if you want me to hit it," he said with a chuckle as he got ready again.

There is an art to using one of those hand throwers and on my next throw, I heaved a clay bird high and fast, quartering away from my friend. As the orange target climbed, my buddy drew a bead on the target and turned it into dust with a pull of the trigger.

"You can't hit it any better than that," I yelled.

"Throw another one," Bob insisted.

I threw the next one straight across in front of him. As Mike and I watched, he blew the target into three pieces. Mike took two more turns in a row and managed to dust both of them before Mike stepped up to shoot and Bob took the thrower back.

Mike stepped up with a side by side sixteen gauge that his hunted with for more than 30 years and when Bob heaved the first clay target, he swung onto it and dusted it with his first shot. After that, Bob threw one low and fast straight across in front of him. Again Mike swung onto it and with a pull of the trigger, turned it into a cloud of dust. In fact, he managed to dust the first nine clay targets he shot at.

We each shot a box of shells before we decided to call it a day. We all missed a few. However, we were all pleased with how well we shot.

"You don't have to have a big mechanical thrower to enjoy some shotgun practice," Bob said. "These little hand throwers and an open woodlot work just fine."